


I Got a Lot of Friends Who are Stars, But I'm a Black Hole

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of underage drinking, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pete's kinda a dick, Pining, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Rejection, Unrequited Love, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 17:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12487312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: It should have been him.He’s happy for them, happy that their souls collided, two brilliant stars burning in infinity, brighter than any galaxy in their own dismal universe. Pete really is happy for them, he swears, but there’s a dark inking lingering in the shadows of his conscious, slithering the recesses of his mind, preying on his china-fragile heart. It hisses and hurls venom-laced curses at their happiness...but not before tightening around his heart just enough to crack as a insult in hissed into his ear, a reminder of his own stupidity.





	I Got a Lot of Friends Who are Stars, But I'm a Black Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Applefallarchive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefallarchive/gifts).



> For the amazing [Applefall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefall/pseuds/Applefall), because they got me hooked on Andtrick, so they're partly to blame for this fic, and besides who isn't in the mood for some peterick angst?

It should have been him.

He’s happy for them, happy that their souls collided, two brilliant stars burning in infinity, brighter than any galaxy in their own dismal universe. Pete really  _ is _ happy for them, he swears, but there’s a dark inking lingering in the shadows of his conscious, slithering the recesses of his mind, preying on his china-fragile heart. It hisses and hurls venom-laced curses at their happiness...but not before tightening around his heart just enough to crack as a insult in hissed into his ear, a reminder of his own stupidity.

Pete shouldn’t have brushed Patrick away when he had his chance, when the planets had finally aligned in their corner of their universe and the stars had shined brighter than they ever had that night. Patrick had come up to him after their third “real” show at the college in a gritty frat house where IDs weren’t required and age didn’t matter. The seventeen year old’s cheeks were slightly flushed from drowning three (illegal) beers, having passed up subtle touches and offers from guys and girls alike, before he had shyly made his way over to the older boy outside on the patio under the full moon light and the canopy of stars littering the sky. He had confessed to Pete--confessed that he actually  _ felt _ things for him in a way that was more than just a friend. That the kiss they shared just a week prior--making out on the couch in Pete’s parent’s basement after sharing a blunt left behind by Joe--that sinful kiss they on that fateful night after practice actually felt like  _ somethin _ g, something more innocent and naive than a simple friendship. With his guts spilled beautifully on the on the floor between them, the red of his sweet, bleeding heart on his sleeve with a hopeful oceanside eyes, he looked at Pete as he waited for some kind of response.

And all Pete did, after a second of deafening silence, was look at the younger boy and shake his head, a chuckle escaping his lips as a hand playfully knocked off his trucker hat to ruff up his hair.

_ “Don’t take it personally, Pattycakes…but it was just a stupid kiss, dude. It really didn’t mean anything.” _ He was lying to Patrick, he absolutely knew he was lying not only to him, but also himself when he said that, snuffing out the hope that had shined in his eyes, crushing Patrick’s fragile heart right under the sole of his shoe. Why? Because Pete didn’t fall for jailbait boys with strawberry-blonde hair, pale thick thighs, and hazel blue-green eyes that showed him the world, with an amazing voice that would take them to the moon and back. No, Pete didn’t fall for people like Patrick who were too innocent to be tainted by the insanity that is Pete fucking Wentz, that didn’t need to be dirtied by his manic moods and depressive blues. Pete falls for skinny scene girls and beautiful, fragile boys who wear too much eyeliner and too tight clothes and have dark or bleached-blonde hair with dangerously tempting grins gracing their lips, beckoning him like a moth to flame.

Patrick didn’t fit into any of those. Patrick was too good, too pure, and nothing of what Pete loves to see underneath his own body in bed.

At least that’s what he told himself in that moment.

The look of shattered hurt in the singer’s eyes and the flush of shame and anger mixed with alcohol coursing through his veins was unforgettable. The way he stormed back inside without another word, pushing past anyone in his way as he tried to escape, left Pete looking for a sight of the boy in the sea of faceless people, but it was too late. Patrick was gone.

Ms. Stumph had called him about an hour later, asking why Patrick had taken the Metro and walked home alone when Pete was supposed to be his ride. The scolding had eased the panic that had filled his heart the moment Pete had lost sight of the boy in the room and had tried desperately to look for him. He apologized profusely, creating some sort of lie that his mom would buy. When all was said and done, what crushed Pete in the aftermath of the bloody massacre of Patrick’s pride and broken heart was that he didn’t talk to him for two weeks. No text messages, to phone calls, no emails. Just silence in the sea of nothingness, in the starless nights that seemed to follow Pete after that day.

Pete tried igniting the stars back into his ever-night sky though, apologizing profusely to Patrick, explaining that he had been drunk when he really wasn’t, just another carefully crafted lie he was trying to sew to consciousness. He explained that he thought of Patrick as his best friend, his better half, the Roberta Flack to his Donny Hathaway, his golden ticket…but nothing more. Looking back, he didn’t if know his feeble attempts at forgiveness helped his case, or just helped him dig an even deeper hole with every lie that fell from his lips.

It took two weeks for things to go back to some semblance of normalcy. They never spoke about it again, it was never brought up, but for Pete, he felt stuck in a endless light with no stars in sight.

Things started falling back into their usual routines, Pete not knowing what personal boundaries looked like, Joe smoking a little too much weed, and Patrick fiddling with his guitar and trying to weave Pete’s words to his melodies.

Then Andy Hurley hurtled into their galaxy.

In their time of need he was heaven-sent, their saving grace in a time of dismal darkness for their amateur little band. He was the temporary-drummer-turned-permanent, a kind and generous soul that was willing to help out their little misfit band with a few recordings and as it turned out, Andy had fit perfectly into their piece of the cosmos. Andy had worked with Pete and Joe before, not with Patrick, but it really hadn’t mattered. It was almost as if they had known each other forever, like their soul had been linked in centuries that passed. He was impressed by the eighteen year-old’s talent, at first trading jabs about cadence and tempo, before fading into curious side conversations about genuine interests. They had gone from talking about the use of specific drum sets and rhythm in certain parts of song to a fanboy appreciation over Star Wars and Doctor Who and back.

The recording of Fall Out Boy’s first demo was a success, and their band was finally complete, but through it all, Pete hadn’t been able ignore the relentless gnawing in his stomach. He noted the way they would fall into each other’s gravity over the simplest things during practice, how easily it was for Andy and Patrick to talk endlessly and keep their friendship strong even when the drummer needed to return to Milwaukee…but he pushed it aside as something trivial. After all, it was good that the kid was making friends, right?

As the music started playing, the band’s popularity started growing. Practices turned into gigs. Gigs went from once a month occurrence, to weekly, to every night a week at some shitty bar, to a mini summer tour in several questionable clubs with people who started singing their songs back to them. And through it all, Pete couldn’t help but noticed the way Patrick and Andy always stuck together, two planets swirling in the same orbit. 

He couldn’t place it for the life of him, couldn’t place what is was about the way they leaned in close to one another when they were talking, the way Andy playfully tugged at the brim of Patrick’s sacred knit hat without getting yelled at when others would suffer the wrath of Patrick’s behemoth temper. But with Andy, Patrick would grin and softly bat his hand away, shooting him a playful glare or an empty threat. Pete would catch them looking at each other, often having felt like he was intruding on something forbidden, like catching a whispered secret, longing glances between lovers…

But Pete was quick to crush those thoughts like the butt of the cigarette he smoked every night after a good show, crushing it under his shoe and kicking it into the darkness. He was just overthinking things, they were just really good friends and besides, Patrick never looked happier.

Then everything came crashing down, the universe that Pete had grown comfortable in, safe in, became jolted and disturbed. Pete was more than a little high on his post-show adrenaline rush, along with the feeling of a blissful buzz of the alcohol flowing through his system when it happened. He was talking to some pretty young thing, a busty scene girl with smudged eyeliner bringing out the icy blue of her eyes and  sinful smile on her lips. As he ordered another beer, his eyes caught the sight of Andy and Patrick in a lonely corner away from all the crowds, away from the fun and the ever-flowing alcohol, standing a bit too close to be considered friendly, a soda in Patrick’s hand and a bottle of water in Andy’s, seemingly deep in conversation.  

Pete was about to wave them over, calling them out on being losers and missing out on all the fun with his too big grin when he saw the way Patrick looked at Andy. It was the same look Patrick had given him what felt like light-years ago. From where he stood, he could see the hope in them but no echo of the fear that colored them so vividly Pete would have dreams, no, memories, of it. That fear, it had haunted him, reminding him of everything he had thrown away in a second. He watched from a distance how oceanside eyes shyly averted their gaze away from the drummer, a blush creeping along his cheeks as his lips moved, possibly saying something back, something that maybe Pete could assume was an apology of sorts from how his lips clearly formed over the words “ _ I’m sorry, it’s stupid.” _ The bassist caught the way Andy tucked a rogue lock of strawberry blonde hair behind his ear, tattooed fingers lingering in his hair as his thumb gently caressed the length of his cheek with tender sweetness and an even gentler smile. Then Patrick looking up at the drummer, stars that Pete had once extinguished flaring in his eyes, bright flickers of hopefulness and nervousness dancing in their small little galaxy as inked fingers curled carefully under his chin, tilting the singer’s head up slowly.

Pete felt nauseous, his gravity faltering, spinning fast, too fast for him to ever comprehend as he watched as Patrick’s eyes fluttered shut and Andy carefully placed lips over his.

And the world just stopped.

Gravity was no longer suspending him, a black hole forming, sucking everything into the pit of nothingness, as he watched the scene unfold before him. The bar and its occupants, besides Pete, were completely oblivious to the way Andy tenderly kissed Patrick, _his_ Patrick, his best friend, his golden ticket, the center of his universe, the ever-shining star in the blackness of his mind…and he wanted to scream, to cry, _No,_ _no_ this wasn’t _right_ , it was just the alcohol playing tricks on him, the traitorous liquor coursing through his veins. But he couldn’t turn away, couldn’t look away from two stars colliding and creating an entirely new universe _without_ him.

Something dark and dreaded bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he watched them pull away, Patrick smiling brighter than he’d ever seen, beautiful and bright, filled with so much light and Andy returning it with his own. As if to add insult to injury, to rub salt into his own self-inflicted wounds, he watched Patrick lean up and initiate another kiss, pale pink lips slide over Andy’s--tentative, nervous, with an hint of the air of naivety that somehow always followed the singer.

And it should have been Pete’s for the taking. He should be the one kissing Patrick, kissing him breathless, making the world fall silent even in a loud room. Patrick should be getting lost in  _ his  _ touch, not Andy’s, Pete should be holding that body close, hoarding the light, the stars, all for himself. But he  _ didn’t _ , a bubbling fit of jealousy boiling inside of him reminded him traitorously as he watches the two of them kiss. That should have him, it should have been his hand on the younger boy’s waist, bringing the singer closer, deeper into a kiss, holding the golden heart of their band’s spiraling galaxy with gentle hands.

_ It should have been fucking  _ **_him_ ** .

Pete had to look away when he caught the briefest and slightest glimpse of tongue, drowning his raging jealousy with his own drink and several more before making out with the willing body beside him.

He fucked her hard and rough in the grimy restroom not even fifteen minutes later, her saccharine sweet voice screaming and moaning his name, all the while Pete thinking of nothing by strawberry blonde hair and the plush pink lips that should have been his to capture and ravish, to make  _ his _ .

But they’re not his for the taking anymore.

Pete goes on with life as if it doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t bother him that Andy and Patrick spend more and more time together, working on drum parts in length, chatting mindlessly over films and comics, catching subtle touches and secret smiles. It doesn’t bother him when about three months after that night at the bar, they come out to him and Joe on the bus, the latter ecstatic as hell for the new couple. It doesn’t bother him that Patrick’s smiling more whenever Andy is around, practically glows after the drummer kisses him before they go on stage, and how Andy is the only one of them that can handle Patrick when his temper is at his worst. It doesn’t bother Pete when he secretly catches them making out in the shadows without them knowing, outside a venue, in the lounge area of the bus, in the bunks--an outsider looking in on the present he could’ve had. It was a constant, painful reminder of his own selfish actions, a whole world of happiness that could have been his, a happiness that would last Andy and Patrick years, even through the darkness of the hiatus.

Who was he kidding, it  _ does _ bother him.

It  _ kills _ him.

It should have been him.

From the very beginning of time, it  _ should _ have been  _ him _ .

But it wasn’t.

And it never will be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank yous to [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade) for being the best Beta in world and having to correct my horrible grammar! <3
> 
> Comments, kudos, suggestions are always welcomed 
> 
> I know I haven't been the best author in the world, and have horribly neglected some of my fics, but I'm working some updates, and I really didn't want to post anything new until I got my shit together, but this little gem of angst was bothering me and it just wrote itself. So, for those who have read this and any of my other fics, please except this as a humble token as of gratitude for your patience. Chapters are being written and updates will happen ( slowly but surely). 
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed and thank you for reading!  
> Thanks <3
> 
> Tumblr: shatteredmirrors-and-lace23  
> Twitter (just me being random af about everything) : MercyMe2314


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